


Moving

by SingManyFaces



Series: Getting To Know You [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Inspired By Tumblr, Light Angst, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24842395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingManyFaces/pseuds/SingManyFaces
Summary: Obi-Wan’s new padawan is having difficulty learning to meditate but, together, they find a way to make it work.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Getting To Know You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085252
Comments: 14
Kudos: 109





	Moving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anesor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anesor/gifts).



> Written for the Jedi June prompt **Meditation/Mindfulness** , with a bit of **Teaching/Learning** thrown in too. Dedicated to Anesor, who gave me the idea.

For the most part, Obi-Wan was pleased with the progress that Anakin had already made since beginning his training as a padawan. He soaked up history and cultural studies like a sponge; he took immediately to the physical side of his instruction, even at such early stages. For someone who had had no training up until that point, his command of the Force was already staggering. But finding serenity through meditation? _That_ still eluded him.

Seated on their mats, in the quiet of their rooms, Anakin’s mind only seemed to grow louder. Obi-Wan would recite the mantra meant to lead them into meditation but, even as he tried to focus on it, whispers of thought would steal Anakin’s concentration away. Anxiety for his mother, over what the other initiates were thinking about him...the more he tried to still himself, the more turbulent the thoughts became. Perhaps the fact that he took to everything else so naturally only added to Anakin’s frustration. Whatever the case, Obi-Wan was reluctant to admit, it seemed that the more they tried to make it work, the less effective it was. 

Then, puzzling over the problem one night, Obi-Wan felt it. The tense cloud of churning emotion that hung heavy about Anakin’s room after their session began to dissipate. Over the course of the next hour it lifted entirely; it felt, for all intents and purposes, as though his padawan _was_ finally meditating properly.

And then it happened again.

Four nights in a row, after they’d ended their attempt at a guided meditation, Anakin retreated to his room. Within an hour of the door closing behind him, Obi-Wan could feel the boy’s tension easing, his mind beginning to quiet. Whatever he was doing, he was achieving the centered stillness that they’d been unsuccessfully searching for. It wasn’t that Anakin couldn’t find the peace of meditation, Obi-Wan came to realize, perhaps just that he couldn’t while Obi-Wan was trying to instruct him on how. Not yet, anyway.

On the fifth night, Obi-Wan keyed open the door.

The small toolkit that Anakin had brought with him from Tatooine was spread out on the floor around him as he screwed closed a final plate on the small round cleaning droid he held in his lap. Laying aside the tool, he set the little droid back on it’s wheels—and smiled with accomplishment as it gave a spin in place, emitting a string of happy beeps as it made its way out the door. Only as it passed Obi-Wan there did Anakin notice he was no longer alone. His expression shifted quickly to one of panic as he scrambled to gather his tools again. “I’m sorry, Master, I’ll clean up the mess right away—”

“There’s no need to apologize, Anakin,” Obi-Wan cut in immediately, looking after the little droid as it made its way out of their rooms, “That looks like it was good work.”

The boy’s pace slowed up as he continued putting his tools away, appearing cautiously grateful for the praise. “Thank you, Master.” He had only recently stopped flinching at the word.

Walking further into the room, Obi-Wan crouched down. He tried to make his voice as bland as possible, “Have you been doing work like this all week?”

Anakin paled a fraction, still afraid of reprisal. “It was just ours at first—” he began, “I noticed one of its wheels wasn’t turning right, so I fixed it. But I guess a lot of the cleaning droids around here have problems like that and...and I think ours might have told them.” Embarrassment edged into his mind. “They started following me home.”

Obi-Wan chuckled warmly and Anakin visibly relaxed. “You _are_ very good with your hands.”

He shrugged off the compliment even as happiness began to glow through his aura, “I’m good at fixing things.” Anakin looked down at his tools again as he rolled them up in their strip of bantha leather, spoke almost too softly to hear, “It makes things seem simple.”

It was a lovely way of thinking, and sent Obi-Wan’s own mind suddenly whirling with possibilities. “You make things of your own, too, don’t you?” He recalled, “P—Queen Amidala told me you built a protocol droid on your own.” Leaping onto another example, “She showed me a wooden pendant you made for her as well.”

At the mention of _that_ Anakin blushed furiously; Obi-Wan returned their focus to the work itself before the boy could sputter out a response. “I don’t think we’d need any new droids,” he told him, putting a touch of regret into his voice, “but if you’ve the tools for woodworking still, I could probably get you some materials.” Tilting his head inquisitively, “If you’d like?”

For a moment Anakin looked unsure what he should say, even though Obi-Wan could feel how much he enjoyed the idea. “I would,” he agreed finally, offering a small smile, “Thank you, Master.”

~*~

A few days later, once Anakin had taken up his place on his mat, Obi-Wan told him, “I’d like us to try something a bit different today.”

The boy blinked up at him, a small sense of relief fluttering across their bond already. “What’s that, Master?”

From the folds of his robe he produced a box, passed it over to Anakin. “These are for you.”

Upon opening it Anakin found the materials he’d been promised; narrow lengths of wood, the bark already removed. Pleasure—and surprise at the number—curled through his aura. Obi-Wan watched as he ran a hand over them thoughtfully. “Did these come from that big tree in the courtyard?”

“Very perceptive,” Obi-Wan offered him a smile, informing gently, “The Great Tree drops a fair amount of branches this time of year. I asked a friend if we might partake of them, and he prepared them for you.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, “Both.” Then, insistently as he looked up from the box, “Will you tell him?”

Obi-Wan chuckled to dispel the seeds of worry suddenly spotting Anakin’s presence in the Force, nodding. “I will.”

Anakin brightened immediately, even though some of his uncertainty lingered. “But what should I do with it, Master?”

“Well, that’s what I’d like you to spend today figuring out.” He shifted his position slightly to take up his proper posture, offered a small smile as he watched Anakin mirror him. “I’ll be here, meditating as I usually do. But I’d like you to spend that time focusing on the wood, getting a sense of what you think it should be.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released it slowly, settling into the beginning of his routine. “Then tomorrow—and for however long it takes you—you can bring your tools out here and start working.”

“Out here?” Anakin’s eyes were wide again as he blinked at him, mouth briefly working like a fish’s. “It won’t bother you?”

His smile widened comfortingly, “Not at all.” Reaching over, he gave Anakin’s knee a little pat. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll make with those materials, Padawan.”

With that he closed his eyes, feeling Anakin’s attention immediately shift back to the box of wood. Obi-Wan began his recitation as Anakin probed the materials with his hands and the Force both. “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony,” voice trembling near-imperceptibly, “Death, yet the Force...”

Not once that evening was his meditation disturbed by the storm cloud he’d grown accustomed to from his padawan. 

The process was even more peaceful once Anakin began working. Over the next days the wood began to transform. The lengths were divided into smaller pieces, then began to take on simple shapes. Anakin worked quickly, though also spent time with his new project on his own; Obi-Wan suspected the boy felt some stages would make too much mess for their meditation space. He could work on it as much as he wanted, Obi-Wan thought, if—through it—he was finally finding the peace of mind they’d been chasing for him.

And he was. The movement of his hands, careful and repetitive, allowed Anakin to empty himself in a way nothing else had. Obi-Wan tried not to pay too close of attention during their sittings, not wanting to intrude or interfere, but couldn’t help stealing glances the day that a spool of string appeared along with the small carvings; he had no idea where the boy might have gotten it.

The carvings Anakin had been working on, he saw then, were beads. The boy’s fingers were just as nimble with the string as they had been with his tools while he strung the beads, tying knots between each little sphere as his lips moved soundlessly. In the Force, it was the most centered that Obi-Wan had felt him since his arrival. Allowing himself the smallest smile, Obi-Wan began repeating his mantra to himself to slip into his own meditation.

When he rose from it again Anakin appeared to be just completing his own work, closing the strand of beads into a loop as he tied the ends of the string into a short sort of tassel. “Have you finished, then?” he asked quietly.

Anakin startled anyway, though he beamed at his master, “I am.”

Obi-Wan returned the smile, feeling Anakin’s pleasure at his creation. “And what have you made?” It looked like it might be a necklace.

“I thought you could wear it around your wrist,” Anakin told him. Reaching up, he gently adjusted his short braid, woven in with strands from Obi-Wan’s own until it could grow a bit longer. “I got the idea from some other padawans I saw wearing beads instead.”

The strand did resemble the silka beads some of the non-human padawans wore...but, as Anakin held it out to him, the rest of the boy’s words sunk in. His hand moved toward the beads uncertainly, lips parting in surprise. “You made this for me?”

He received an enthusiastic nod. “I could sense you’ve been worried about something lately, Master,” his eyes shone with sympathy, “Very worried. So I thought this might help.” Turning the strand, he pointed out the bead nestled next to one side of the tassel. “See, there’s one for every line of the mantra you use during meditation,” running his finger along the strand until he met the other side of the tassel, “And then a set of those for each time you usually repeat it until your mind clears.” He shifted the beads in his hands again, a touch of nervousness fluttering into the Force around him; he finished his explanation in a rush. “I thought maybe if you started to get worried again—and you couldn’t really meditate like you like to—you could count the beads to try and help it instead.” Finishing softly, “Or something.”

“That’s—” Obi-Wan took a breath and cleared his throat. “That was very thoughtful of you, Anakin.” His hand closed carefully around the beads and he wound them around the opposite wrist; the strand looped comfortably twice. _“Thank you.”_

Nervousness dissipating immediately, Anakin beamed up at him again. “You like it?”

“Very much.” Against his skin the beads felt full of intent, a steadying force imparting a warm sense of calm. That sense led him to realize that earlier, when he’d seen Anakin murmuring to himself as he strung the beads, he’d been reciting the mantra as he went, repeating it as Obi-Wan did. His throat tightened at the thought, and he cleared it again. “Are there any beads left?”

“Well yeah, I used it all, so,” Anakin laughed a little as he pulled the box the wood had rested in around in front of him, “there’s a lot.” He gave the box a little shake and the beads within rattled loudly against its walls. “Why?”

Obi-Wan rubbed gently at his gift with his thumb. “If you would, I’d like you to teach me how to string them.” He took another breath, felt a greater sense of peace settle over him, and offered Anakin a kind smile. “I’ve had you working with your hands this while because, when you do, it becomes a kind of Moving Meditation for you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” The boy blinked up at him in surprised delight—but of course he wouldn’t have known the practice could take other forms. “It’s a fine method to use,” he reinforced before continuing, “but the life of a Jedi sometimes brings us to unexpected situations, and you might not always be able to.” Holding up his wrist, he looked fondly at the beads. “Perhaps if I make you something like this it could help _you_ in those moments, too.”

Anakin’s eyes welled, flattered pleasure glowing gently into the Force around him as he ducked his head. “Thank you, Master.” He retrieved his spool of string and started unwinding a length of it. “I’d be happy to teach you.”

That afternoon, Obi-Wan spent the hours carefully following his padawan’s instructions. 


End file.
